New Favorite Memory
by Bm89
Summary: Tuckson. Series of mostly unrelated drabble-length oneshots. Rated T for now; will probably change.
1. Running Late

**A/N: The beginning of this fic comes to you from a corner table at Rue la Rue, a café dedicated to one of my other TV loves—The Golden Girls. This is my new happy place.**

 **This "adventure" I'm about to take you on…it'll be a series of drabbles. Some connected, some not. The timeline will vary, as will the theme & rating. I was listening to Brad Paisley's **_**New Favorite Memory**_ **, and something clicked, and now, here we are…**

 **##**

 **1.**

 _ **Running Late**_

 **Timeline: Between S16/S17**

 **WC: ~1300**

"I know, I'm late," Olivia called from the door, before grumbling under her breath. "I swear, Dodds has the worst possible timing…"

Busting into the apartment, she carelessly tossed her coat onto the rack by the door and dropped her bag.

"Sorry, sorry," she breathed, stepping into the living room and leaning down to kiss the top of Noah's head where he was coloring at the coffee table. She paused from running her fingers through his short brown hair to look at him more closely. "You're already dressed?" Her surprised gaze shifted to Ed, who was watching her from the couch with a small smirk.

"Lucy gets the credit for that. I just got here." Ed gestured over his shoulder at the young woman, who was steeping a tea bag in an oversized mug in the kitchen.

"Thank you, Lucy," Olivia smiled warmly. She appraised Ed, who was dressed in charcoal slacks and a crystal blue oxford shirt that perfectly matched his eyes, before looking down at her own attire. "Let me go get changed. I'll just be a minute." She'd hoped to have more time to get ready but had gotten held up with the Chief and now just barely had enough time to change clothes and freshen up her makeup.

"Take your time," Lucy assured her, laying a soft hand on Olivia's forearm before she kneeled on the floor at the coffee table with Noah. She had agreed to stay a little later than normal before the trio met Ed's mother for dinner.

Taking advantage of the sitter's presence, Ed turned to follow Olivia back to her bedroom, stifling a groan when he turned the corner down the hallway just in time to see the white blur of her blouse as she whipped it over her head.

…

She was stripped down to a navy blue bra and panty set by the time Ed made his way back into her bedroom. Sensing his presence, Olivia started talking to him through the doorway from the bathroom, where she was hunched over her vanity re-applying her makeup and dismantling the updo she'd sported for work.

"What time do we need to be there?"

From his perch at the end of her bed, only her shadow was visible to him moving around the bathroom, but by the sound of her voice he could clearly see her in his mind's eye, leaning over the vanity, mouth ajar as she touched up her eyeliner.

Absently, he glanced at the watch on his wrist, the second hand completing a revolution, the watch face reading 6:40. They would be cutting it close, depending on how easy it was to grab a cab outside. "Reservation's at 7. We can be a little late," he dismissed. "Don't worry about it."

At that, her face reappeared around the doorframe and he smirked at the look of incredulous disbelief decorating her features. "Ed, we're meeting you're mother. _I'm_ meeting your mother," she emphasized. "We can't be late…"

Ed let out a dry chuckle and ran a hand down his face, his body falling back onto her bed. "My mother's never been on time for a damn thing," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

"We can't be late," she repeated succinctly, stepping out of the bathroom and making her way to the closet. As he watched her quietly from the bed, he was struck by the revelation of just how much had changed between them in the months since they'd gotten together.

In the beginning, she'd been painfully self-conscious, Ed being only the second person besides Brian to see her in a state of undress post-Lewis. But now… he smiled appreciatively at how she was completely uninhibited in her near-nakedness in front of him. It was almost like he wasn't in the room at all, only he was, and she knew it—otherwise why would she be torturing him so?

He listened half-heartedly as she vented to him about the latest hoops Dodds was forcing her and her squad to jump through. It wasn't due to lack of interest; he was just mesmerized by her. Trying his best, he offered somewhat coherent responses where necessary as his eyes devoured her soft curves and perpetually tanned olive skin; losing himself in the subtle scent of the lotion she'd applied to her skin.

Olivia felt a flush spread across her upper chest and neck, knowing he was ogling her from his perch on her bed. Enjoying the attention, she took her time pulling out and smoothing the dress she'd chosen carefully for this occasion.

When Ed had mentioned his mother wanted to meet her, she'd been nervous. She didn't meet mothers. That was one of the plus sides of having so few long-term relationships in her twenties and thirties.

No commitment meant you didn't really have to meet family.

Her relationship with Brian had lasted just long enough to warrant the introduction, and she hadn't been able to find her way out of it.

But Ed…granted, they were still on the new side, but there was something different about him, and she found herself _wanting_ to do this, even if the thought of it  & what it meant still scared her.

Pulling the dress up over hips and slipping her arms through the capped sleeves, she stepped in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door, watching him in the reflection and pulling her hair off to one shoulder, before smoothing the material over her stomach and down the front of her thighs.

He propped himself up on his elbows and watched her silently; lust building in his clear blue eyes and enflaming his skin, a telltale sign of his arousal.

Her hands stopped moving and he looked up to find her eyes already on him, a knowing smile curving her lips.

"Zip me up?" He was surprised by the softness in her voice; it bore no traces of the frenzy that had been there when she'd arrived home.

Despite the initial rush of the evening, time slowed, and her eyes never left his as he got up from the bed and made his way toward her, stopping when he could feel the heat of her body against his.

He let his hands feather up the supple skin of her upper arms, massaging her shoulders gently before sliding down her back toward the open zipper, his fingertips just barely grazing her spine on the way down. At the sensation, her body was wracked with a head-to-toe shiver, and he smirked when she let a small moan escape.

In that moment, with her soft brown waves cascading over one shoulder, smoldering eyes piercing his in the mirror, her scent surrounding him and the warmth of her in his arms, he cursed the dinner with his mother that they were about to be late for. It was the only thing stopping him from pushing the dress back down her body and taking his time showing her that, in this moment and all moments that would follow, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He knew Olivia Benson _belonged_ to no one, but he was comfortable in the knowledge that she was his just as much as he, hers, and this awareness culminated in a sense of gratitude that overcame him.

Years of loneliness, of feeling like something was missing, were worth it for the completeness he felt in this moment with her.

He lowered his head until his lips barely grazed the soft material at her shoulder and lifted his hand; the sound of the zipper as it ascended her back interrupted the charged silence that had fallen in the room.

As his eyes continued to pierce hers through the reflection in the mirror, Olivia's gaze containing the promise of what was to come when they returned later, Ed was sure that of all the memories they'd made together in recent months, this one was rapidly becoming his favorite.

##

 **More?**


	2. Let's Try Again

**A/N: This is why I like this drabble idea. Here's numero dos.**

 **2\. Let's Try Again**

 **Timeline: Post-That-Episode-Where-TPTB-Sunk-My-Ship**

 **WC: ~900**

 **Rating: Still T, though I may be persuaded to write something more…fun…for this, soon.**

##

"Olivia," he said, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice.

It had been months. Four, to be exact.

He watched her cautiously, blue eyes filling with concern as she fidgeted nervously in the hallway outside his door, unable—or unwilling—to meet his gaze.

"Hey," he tested, reaching out to touch her but thinking better of it before his hand made contact with her arm. "You alright? Wanna come in?"

"Yes," she started, before closing her eyes and shaking her head. "No. I don't know."

"O-kay," he said slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his weight rest on the doorframe. "That doesn't really get us anywhere, does it?"

Despite her best efforts not to react to his gentle teasing, a chuckle escaped and she ran an exasperated hand through her hair, finally allowing her eyes to connect with his. "No, I guess it doesn't," she conceded with a sigh.

"So, let's try again," he responded simply, not missing a beat. "You okay?" The playfulness was gone and his scrutiny was intense as he pored over her features for all of her _tells_.

"That's…" She took a deep breath, releasing it around a defeated smile as her eyes suddenly found the floor at her feet very interesting. "That's a good question."

"I thought it might be," Ed quipped, his eyes never leaving her. "You got a good answer for me?" he challenged.

The silence between them seemed to drag on forever and Ed waited patiently, knowing her, knowing she wasn't okay and knowing it was never easy for her to admit that. For her, he'd always had all the time in the world—in four months, that hadn't changed. He wasn't sure it ever would. Something led her to him; he'd wait as long as she needed him to, to find out what that something was.

"You ever…" Olivia cleared her throat when her voice cracked; pushing loose strands of hair behind her ear before shoving her hands into her back pockets and shrugging at him in frustration, though they both knew it was directed more at her than at him. "You ever make a decision that you think, you hope is the right one, and as soon as it's done, you realize you've made a terrible mistake?" she blurted, biting her lip and watching his reaction as soon as the last words escaped.

"I'm a cop—it happens," he replied.

"That's not—" She shook her head harshly, just once. "I meant…"

"I know what you meant," he interrupted her; his voice was soft, apologetic almost, and their eyes locked, silence once again filling in the space between them.

"I didn't want to need you," she finally whispered. He could hear the emotion, her voice thick with unshed tears, and it knocked the wind out of him. "I'm so used to only relying on myself," she tried, and then shook her head. "I didn't want to need you," she repeated, her voice even softer than before, forcing him to strain to hear it though the distance between them couldn't have stretched more than a few feet.

"Olivia," he started. Cautiously, he took half a step toward her. Her breath hitched but she made no move to re-establish the distance he'd broached. "It doesn't make you weak," he reasoned. "Not having to face things alone…it doesn't make you weak."

"I know that."

Ed chuckled, and then stopped at the look on her face. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem like you do."

"Ed, I didn't come here for—"

"—Why did you come here, Liv?" Her eyes fell shut at the use of her nickname; the first time he'd used it…since _before_. With her eyes closed, Ed took a chance and stepped toward her once more, close enough to thread his index finger into the loose waves that framed her face. He watched her body deflate as it detected his proximity to hers, warm breath releasing against his cheek as she relaxed into the familiar closeness, the spice of his aftershave, that subtle hint of stale cigarettes that could only ever be sexy on _him_. He leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear. "Why did you come here?"

Olivia swallowed thickly, tamping down the goose bumps, and opened her eyes as his hands found her hips, his body moving slightly away from hers to catch her gaze.

He found himself getting lost in the vulnerability in her eyes, knowing she was reliving the opposite side of the same memory.

" _Take care of yourself, Olivia Benson."_

She hadn't said anything else that night—couldn't. She merely nodded and tried for a smile, needing to appear strong, even if she was feeling anything but.

Of all the times she'd had the right words to say at the exact perfect time, she wished that night had been one of those times, that she'd never let him walk out of her apartment, that she hadn't— _they_ hadn't—tried harder.

Watching the emotions swirl in his eyes, her face contorted in a watery smile and she breathed the words that instantaneously filled him with something he'd only ever felt when it came to her: _hope._ An overwhelming abundance of hope.

With those words, his heart seemed to soar and drop simultaneously and he released a breath that it felt like he'd been holding for four months.

"I miss you."

##

 **You all know how this works by now… [** **points to "Review" box** **]**


	3. Change of Venue

**A/N: I'm exercising my smut muscle a little bit before I go back to You and I. Rating goes up for this one… Also, they're accidentally-on-purpose probably a little OOC, just as a heads-up. Sue me. But really, don't.**

 **Timeline: Whenever you want it to be, but we're pretending the break-up never happened…**

 **WC: ~1400**

 **Rating: M. No gym reading.**

##

 _Olivia grunted with the impact of her back against the wall, her hands immediately reaching for Ed to pull him closer once he'd kicked the door shut behind him, leaving them alone in her office._

" _We don't have a lot of time to work with here," she reminded him, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and glancing one last time to be sure the blinds on her door were shut. Thankfully, they were. All of her detectives were out either following up on leads or grabbing lunch, but really, any one of them could return at any time._

" _Won't need much," Ed shot back, pushing his hips into hers so she could feel just how ready he was for her. He buried his face in her neck, roughly sucking the salty-sweet skin, his hands yanking her blouse from the waistband of her pants._

 _Olivia hummed, turning her head to give him more room to work with on her neck and momentarily allowing herself to fall into the sensations he was sending through her. The want she had for him increased exponentially before she came to her senses and pushed him away slightly. "No marks," she gasped._

 _He opened his mouth to retort, whatever response lost in a strangled groan from his throat when she palmed him through his boxer-briefs, having somehow undone his belt and pants without him realizing. "Fuck," he whispered, his hips falling into a rhythm with her hand. "Liv…" If she continued, he would blow before she even freed him from the constriction._

" _I know," she said, pulling her hand away. Ed reached for the hem of her shirt, intent on pulling it over her head, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. "No time." Instead, he settled for roughly palming one of her breasts beneath her blouse, feeling her nipple harden beneath the satin and lace of her bra as she writhed against him. "Ed," she panted in his ear._

" _Hmm?"_

" _Pants," she huffed, trying to get some control back, pushing him away so she could get to her belt buckle. Her voice was filled with desire as she half-pleaded, half-commanded, "Off. Now."_

 _Ed would've teased her if her crippling need weren't making his own increase tenfold. Breathing heavily, he reached between them, helping her remove the garment, leaning down to tear the material from her ankles before standing and pressing her firmly into the wall again, his lips meeting hers in a fiery, passionate kiss._

 _Olivia gave as good as she got, opening her mouth wide beneath his and aggressively probing her tongue into his mouth. She felt his fingers at the waistband of her panties and pulled away, gasping, reaching for his erection again beneath his boxer-briefs. "Leave 'em on," she wheezed._

" _Christ," he groaned, pulling the material to the side instead, feeling how wet she was, as she freed him from his own confines, roughly shoving the cotton down to his mid-thigh._

 _She lifted her right leg to wrap around his waist, guiding him to her entrance and wrapping her other arm around his shoulders for stability. His eyes fell shut at the sensation of her warmth against the tip of his now painfully hard erection and he took in a shaky breath in an effort not to lose control—all of which ended up being for naught when she leaned in close, sucked his earlobe sensually between her plump lips and whispered, "Fuck me."_

##

Ed jerked awake.

Chest heaving from the intensity of the surprisingly vivid dream, Ed blinked rapidly to pull himself into the present. He groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes before chancing a look down his body and seeing his manhood standing at attention, arousal still pumping through his veins at the imagery his subconscious had concocted.

"Good dream?"

He turned at the sound of her throaty morning voice, finding her on her side facing him, head propped up on a bent elbow, and amused smile curving her lips as she eyed him.

Shifting onto his side to face her, he gasped at the sensation of the sheet rubbing against his hard length. "Hmm?" he hummed innocently in askance.

"You were moving a lot, making all kinds of noises," Olivia told him. "Sounded like a good dream…" She watched the aroused blush intensify across his upper chest, and slowly moved closer to him, eyes drifting subtly to his waist where the sheet now hid his erection. "What was it about?"

Ed stayed silent, but gave her a sheepish smile that took her only seconds to dissect and she scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Seriously?" Smacking his chest, she looked at him incredulously. "You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

Olivia pushed him onto his back, slinging a leg over his hips and rising up to straddle him.

"Can't help it," Ed shrugged, running his hands up her bare thighs.

"What is it about the office sex?" she asked, before adding quickly, "The office sex that's _never_ gonna happen, by the way…" She traced her fingers across his chest, around his nipples, and over his stomach in lazy patterns.

Ed looked at her skeptically, hands kneading the taut muscles of her thighs more thoroughly, enjoying her reaction to the manipulation as her weight rested more fully on his lower half. "The possibility of getting caught's never turned you on?"

She brought a fingertip to her chin, pretending to think, then shook her head in the negative, lowering herself so her chest hovered closely over his. "Can't say the times we've had to scramble for clothes before Noah made an unannounced entrance have been particularly _exciting_ , no." She kissed him quickly.

"Not like that." Ed pushed, shaking his head subtly as his hands made their way past her hips, up her sides, teasingly skipping over her breasts and then coming down over her stomach with a firmer touch. "Someplace public," he clarified huskily. "People around…"

Olivia eyed him carefully, feeling the urgency increase in his touches and the fire swirl with more intensity in his eyes as they talked about it.

"The thought of getting caught really does it for you, doesn't it?" she asked him, her brow furrowed curiously.

"A little," he admitted.

At that, she raised her eyebrow. "Feels like more than a little," she challenged with a smirk, rolling her hips over his impressive hard-on.

His eyes momentarily rolled back in his head and she repeated the movement, smiling victoriously when Ed grit his teeth and released a pained groan of pleasure while his hands tried to guide her hips into continued movement.

Olivia bit her lip. Her body was reacting strongly just by how his was responding to her. "Maybe we can explore a more…public venue sometime in the future," she offered breathily.

Ed's eyes found hers quickly as the passion escalated between them. "Yeah?" he asked hopefully.

She shrugged, sitting up straight on his hips and lifting her hands to her hair, arching her back so her bare breasts were on full display. "As long as it's not my office—and we don't get arrested—I think we can figure something out," she said simply. "But it seems to me," she leaned forward, resting her hands on either side of his head, her face hovering over his, "we have a pretty good scenario presenting itself right now, don't you think?" she asked; her voice innocent even as she ground into him with more force.

"Christ, Liv," he groaned, his eyes falling shut. "I gotta get in you," he breathed desperately.

Wasting no more time, Olivia lifted herself up, reaching beneath her body to grip him and align him with her entrance. A deep groan escaped her throat when finally, mercifully, he was fully sheathed inside her.

Ed watched her eyes roll to the back of her head, feeling the sting of her fingernails where they dug into the heated skin of his chest, no doubt leaving indentations. Neither moved, both breathing heavily while her body adjusted to the familiar intrusion.

Finally, she began to move and Ed closed his eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of her completely surrounding him. He thrust up as her hips came down, their bodies working in tandem toward a common goal as heavy breaths and the occasional moan or whimper of a name interrupted the otherwise quiet room.

Hurtling toward a release that had been building since even before he was awake, Ed found himself thinking that even if his fantasy of a potentially more risky locale were never fulfilled, the image of her head thrown back in pleasure and the sound of her hoarse cries would forever be seared into his memory.

##


	4. Easter

**My attempt at avoiding lightning bolts from my earlier "This Is It" update.**

 **4\. Easter**

 **WC: ~1600**

 **Rating: K. Just cuteness, mainly.**

##

"I help, Mommy?"

Olivia smiles at her son, who sits Indian-style on the counter. He squirms as he watches her carefully pour vinegar into several small bowls, and then puts a different color dye in each one. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, and when he leans forward onto his knees, legs still crossed, she warns him, "Careful, baby." He retreats with a shy, chastised smile, craning only his neck to watch her now. "Let Mommy finish this part, then you can do the rest, okay?"

"'Kay," he nods. He leans forward, crinkling his nose in disgust. "Smells icky," he says.

She laughs, crinkling her nose back at him and kissing his forehead. "It does, doesn't it?"

She moves away from the counter to get the bowl of eggs she'd hard-boiled earlier in the afternoon, when a knock interrupts the silence. She looks at Noah, feigning surprise. "I wonder who that is…?" she asks rhetorically. "Do you wanna answer it, sweet boy?"

Noah bounces excitedly, "I answer it."

Olivia gently lowers him to the ground, smiling when he takes off running toward the door as soon as his feet hit the floor.

"Make sure you ask who it is first, Noah," she calls after him, arranging the eggs and dyes in something resembling an assembly line on the counter.

"Who dere?" Noah calls to the door. Olivia looks up and chuckles—he's still standing 10 feet away from it.

"It's Tucker." Even through the wood, Olivia can hear the smile in his voice.

Noah immediately turns to his mom, seeking permission to open the door now that their visitor has been identified. "Go ahead, baby," she says. "Let him in."

Running to the door, Noah pulls it open with two hands, grinning up at the older man who kneels down immediately to greet him.

"Tucker!"

Ed grins, hardly recalling a time where he's received such a warm, exuberant welcome before. He can feel Olivia's eyes on them as they hover in the doorway and he knows that, as much as it means to him that Noah seems to care for him as much as he does, it means even more to her.

"Hey, kiddo," Ed brushes his knuckle on the toddler's cheek with his free hand, his other hidden behind him. "Look what I got." He pulls a stuffed bunny in a police uniform from behind his back and hands it to Noah.

"Mommy, look!" Noah cries, turning to run back to the kitchen, holding the bunny out in front of him for her appreciation.

"Wow," she marvels, before palming the back of his head. She pauses, then prompts him, "What do you say?"

Noah turns back to Tucker, who, in all the excitement, has shut the door behind him and made his way deeper into her apartment. "Fank you."

"You're welcome," Ed says with a small grin. He walks into the kitchen, sidling up to Olivia and putting a hand on the small of her back as he leans in to kiss her softly. "Hi."

"Hey," she smiles, kissing him again. "A cop bunny?" she asks with a laugh. "Is that like the Easter police? Where in the hell did you find that?"

"I'm not givin' away my secrets," he teases. He hoists Noah up onto the counter at the boy's urging, and surveys the small bowls of variously colored dyes. "What do we got here?"

"We are dying Easter eggs," she winks, turning and leaning against the counter to face him fully. "Want a drink?"

"Yeah, but I'll get it." He leans in to kiss her temple, moving around her kitchen with a familiarity and comfort that makes her smile. "You guys do your thing. I'll watch."

Ed pours himself bourbon from the bottle she's taken to keeping around for him, and moves to the other side of the counter, settling into one of her barstools to watch curiously as Olivia helps Noah.

She's patient, showing Noah how to dip the eggs without making a mess and carefully roll it to make sure the whole egg gets colored, and then she moves back a little—enough to let Noah take charge and do it himself but still be close enough to intercept potential multi-colored disaster if necessary.

The whole time, she feels his eyes on her and the heat rises in her cheeks, eyes twinkling when they catch his over her son's head.

"What?" she asks shyly.

"Nothin'," he shrugs gently. "Just like watchin' you."

His face bears a look of innocence, almost. But beneath that there's something else. It's as if he knows how rare it is that someone—an outsider—gets to witness this side of her—playful, goofy…she'll do almost anything to get a giggle out of her son because to her, there's no other sound in the world like his happiness.

Outside the walls of this apartment, to everyone except her son, she has a reputation to uphold. She's Lieutenant Benson. Inside, though, she's just Olivia. She's soft, tender, and wide open. She's a beautiful woman, with a beautiful little boy. He feels himself falling for both of them.

Oblivious to the interaction taking place between his mom and his Tucker, Noah looks up at her. "Mommy, Tucker can make an egg?"

She leans her elbow down on the counter, resting her chin on her fist. "If he wants to," she shrugs, grinning at the man who's made such an impression on her young son. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Tuck," Noah whips his head around to the older man. "You make egg?"

"How 'bout you make one for me?"

Noah grins. "What your fav'rite color?"

Ed pretends to think for a moment, winking at Olivia who's watching their exchange rapturously.

He lives for these nights. He loves being a part of their little world, and he finds, the closer they get, the three of them, the more it happens. She'll text him to meet them at the park some Saturdays, and he makes sure that for every date he takes her on one-on-one, he plans something else they can do with Noah, knowing how important it is that he's included as the relationship grows and deepens.

"How 'bout…blue?" Ed finally says.

"Blue like p'lice?"

Laughing, he nods. "That's right, kiddo. Blue like police."

Olivia stands up straight, interjecting. "Let's get this other one out of the blue first, then we'll make a special one for Tuck, okay, baby?"

Ed watches as Olivia uses a special clear crayon, helping Noah write on a fresh egg before dropping it carefully into the blue dye. While it sits, she helps him fish the remaining eggs out of the other colors, sitting them gently on the holes at the back of the dye package.

Egg-dyeing endeavor complete, it's time to get her little man to bed so she can spend some quality time with the other, new man in her life.

"Okay, Noah," she lifts him off the counter and lowers him to the floor. "You know what time it is…?"

"No, Mommy," he whines. "Wanna stay up wiff you and Tuck."

She rolls her eyes playfully toward Ed and then turns her attention back to her son. "I know, baby…but you know what? The Easter bunny only visits good boys who go to bed when they're supposed to." She watches the resignation slide over his angelic face, and she strokes his cheek with the warm palm of her hand. "Say night-night to Tucker and go brush your teeth. I'll be in to read you a story in a minute."

Obediently, Noah runs around to where Ed sits, his body crashing into Ed's knees in a tender embrace as Ed gently rubs his back. "Night, Tuck."

"Sweet dreams, little guy."

After Noah scampers down the hallway, heeding his mom's instructions, Ed watches her clean up the remnants before she turns to face him again, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

"What?" she asks.

Ed jerks his head. "C'mere." The rasp in his voice makes her shudder and, smiling shyly, she slowly makes her way around the counter until she stands in front of him, allowing herself to be pulled between his knees. He leaves the nearly empty glass of bourbon on the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around her, and he reaches up to push a hair out of her face that's shaken lose from her clip. Seconds tick by where they just seem to stare at each other, before Ed finally leans in, taking her full lips between his in a slow kiss.

The kiss, though simple, is drawn out, and eventually he feels her hand come to rest on his shoulder as she steadies herself before pulling away.

It's a few seconds before she finds the strength to open her eyes, and when she does, her cheeks are tinted pink. "I'm glad you came tonight," she whispers, moving her hand up so her thumb caresses the side of his neck.

"I'm glad you asked," he shoots back with a smirk.

She takes a deep breath before kissing him again, and reluctantly, she pulls away. "I should probably go make sure he hasn't destroyed the bathroom…"

"Right." She slips out of his grasp and he gets up, taking his glass to the couch where he'll wait patiently for her to return.

"I'll be quick," she promises.

But he waves her off. "Take your time," he tells her. "I'll just be right here."

The look on her face at that moment will stay with him. He's said things like that to her before—plenty of times, actually, on nights just like this. But in her eyes, he registers that his words have sunken in on a deeper level for the first time.

She believes him.

##

 **I wanted to get this out on the day-of, so my apologies if it's not my best. Prioritizing a You and I update next—this week, sometime. Also, if y'all want a part 2 to "Change of Venue", are there any venue suggestions you think Ed and Olivia should pursue?**

 **You know what to do… [eyes review box]**


	5. Close

**I didn't really know where to put this one. It's too short to be a one-shot by itself, but decidedly less…fluffy…than the other things in this series. But, ultimately, I decided that it falls under the "memory" thing—however painful. Oh, and there's your warning. It hurts. It's angst. It's like I've been abducted by aliens named MT. ;)**

 **Here's another warning: as much as I'd love for this to be perfectly 100% in character, I realize it's probably not-** _ **sigh**_ **. Sue me. (But really, don't.)**

 **Inspired by an obscure insta-poet quote that I'm trying to find again in a sea of screenshots, and Rascal Flatt's "Close".**

 **Also, I'd tell you not to get used to all this updating, but y'all have probably written the book on** _ **that**_ **by now, huh? * cowers ***

##

 **5.**

 _ **Close**_

 **Timeline: post-Chasing Theo…ish. It's imprecise for a reason.**

 **WC: ~700**

 **Rating: K**

Ed rolls onto his back with a frustrated sigh, restless legs fighting against getting tangled in the sheets of his queen-sized bed; the bed that lately, has felt entirely too big for just one person.

It's another night where rest eludes him. He can't seem to clear his mind enough for his body to ease comfortably into sleep.

He runs a calloused hand over his face, eyes blinking blearily at the ceiling, watching as the blades in the fan slice up the cool night air in his bedroom. Nature's noisemaker runs faithfully, the sounds of the city drifting in through the crack of his 5th floor window. Distantly, he hears the faint sound of a couple laughing on the street, and he tamps down the urge to be bitter. This unknown couple still clings to what he'd foolishly let slip through his fingers.

Based on the darkness that permeates the space, he knows the time is hovering comfortably between too late and too early to be awake. He hesitates to check, knowing the moment he touches his phone, he'll be powerless to stop what has become a pitiful pastime on nights like this.

Moments tick by before he gives in, losing the internal war and shifting to reach his phone where it lay silent on the bedside table. He taps the home button to bring it to life and groans at the time taunting him over a picture of Noah feeding a goat at a petting zoo.

2:40AM

His thumb taps out his passcode and like muscle memory, he immediately opens the phone app.

There is only a brief hesitation before he switches over to his voicemails, feeling pathetic for doing this again when he swore the last time would be the last time.

Ultimately though, he surrenders, knowing rest won't come easy until he does.

It's not just about hearing her voice. He does that more than he anticipated following their split, their units having to collaborate on a couple of cases in recent months. But it's not the same.

 _Lieutenant Benson_ doesn't sound the same as his Liv.

He presses play on the saved voicemail, hitting the button for the speaker, and a faint smile twitches his lips as her voice once again fills his empty bedroom. If he ignores the static in the background, it's almost like she never left.

He closes his eyes.

"… _You know how it is," Olivia-of-the-past huffs with an exasperated chuckle._

It was that voice, the one he'd jokingly referred to as her "rain-check voice." He'd grown accustomed to hearing it from her, knowing that a case could drop in her lap at any moment and their plans would inevitably shift. It never bothered him; he understood the job, and as their relationship progressed, he grew to going to her place anyway on those nights. He'd relieve Lucy, and it gave them time when she got home, even if that only meant him being there to hold her while she fell asleep.

He wonders now, if he appreciated those nights as much as he should have as they were happening. If he'd have known…

" _Anyway, I have to go—things just got crazy here again, but_ _I promise_ _I will get out of here on time tonight." Shuffling papers crackle in the background before he recognizes the sound of her turning off speaker mode and bringing the phone to her ear. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, her words clearly meant for him and him alone, and the warmth of them is just as consuming now as it was then._

He swears he can hear her smile. _"Happy birthday, baby. I love you."_

And then, silence again. Only this time, it feels less stifling.

He feels less alone.

The earth has almost completed another revolution around the sun since that message, and since then, his whole world has shifted. But, as he puts his phone on the pillow and presses play again, the comfort of her voice pours over him like melted butter, and the last thing he hears before he finally slides into slumber is her voice saying _I love you_ one more time.

##

 *** Toes the ground * Well…?**


	6. Time

**This should make up for the last one a teeny tiny little bit.**

##

 **6.**

 _ **Time**_

 **Timeline: Post. That's it. Just…** _ **post.**_

 **WC: ~700**

 **Rating: K.**

 _Good luck, Lieu._

Ed huffed a laugh around the rim of his glass, taking a small sip of bourbon as he eyed the banner draped somewhat precariously over the bar at O'Malley's. The dingy bar had been the setting of more after work drinks than she or anyone in the squad could count over the years, and it seemed like the perfect place to toast her final day on the force.

She'd finally done it. Retired. And by the looks of it, somehow Carisi was left in charge of the party decorations.

…

A familiar arm wrapped around his waist from behind and he turned his neck to face the woman it belonged to. "You're all alone," she observed, smiling when his lips pressed against the skin of her temple in a silent, but tender greeting.

"I tend to scare people away," he said wryly.

"Not _all_ people," she shot back with a wink.

"No," he smirked, leaning down to sneak a chaste kiss on her lips while they seemed have escaped the teasing eyes of her squad members—both past and…further past. "Not all people," he agreed pointedly, pressing their lips together once more.

"You good to stay a little longer?" she ventured, looking over her shoulder at the party in full swing. "John said Cragen was around here somewhere. I haven't seen him in…" she looked up, searching, "God, I don't even know how long it's been," she said.

Ed nodded, pulling her into his side and leading her back toward the festivities. "We can stay as long as you want, Liv," he whispered into her hair, breathing in the lingering scent of vanilla from her shampoo. "This is your day."

…

Later, the party still going, Olivia stood with her back against Ed's front, his left hand splayed across her stomach in an unconsciously steadying gesture as they both participated in separate conversations; she with her former Captain, he with Carisi.

Olivia nursed the drink in her left hand, her right hand twisting the tungsten band that adorned his ring finger against her stomach, absently swirling the metal around his skin as Don regaled her with another story from his and Aileen's years-long globetrotting adventures.

The punch line came, and Olivia threw her head back in a bout of raucous laughter, capturing the attention of nearly the whole room. Drifting from his own conversation and finding himself unsurprisingly enthralled by her, Ed knew by the momentary hush that seemed to befall the room in the wake of her outburst that he wasn't the only one she had that affect on.

He felt her grip tighten against the hand he had on her stomach and grinned, holding her tighter against him in kind.

Today marked an end, yes. But it was also a beginning—in many ways, a new beginning for them, to be together without the NYPD creeping into the dark corners of their relationship.

He was under no illusion that she was done for good. Eventually, he knew, she would return to work in some capacity. When she was ready, she would find another way to help victims, to fulfill her purpose in a way that didn't include a badge and a gun, a way that allowed a little more space for her to live her own life in-between—to be there for soccer games and Girl Scout meetings, to enjoy all the tiny moments of being a wife and a mother that made those titles the ones she was most proud of.

But until then, he would enjoy every moment he got with her like this: care free and full of life, her eyes brighter, almost, than he'd ever seen them.

There wasn't a plan, per se. No grandeur; no elaborate trips, or lists to check off.

What lay ahead, what sent a bolt of unbridled excitement through his veins was simply… _time._

Time to make up for, time to make the most of… time to explore things and each other; to be happy, to be family… to enjoy everything they never thought they'd have.

##

 **So, while we're on this journey together… does anyone have any requests?**


	7. Parisian Mornings

##

 **7.**

 _ **Parisian Mornings**_

 **Timeline: We're pretending S18 never happened. You're welcome.**

 **WC: ~1000**

 **Rating: K.**

"Mommy, lookit!"

Ed's eyes slowly blink open against the harsh sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains into the room, his body sluggishly starting to wake up as he hears Olivia's voice from where they sit on the balcony, softly telling Noah to keep his voice down. He smirks as he buries his face into the pillow, pleased to discover it still carries the warm, slightly floral scent of her shampoo. Quietly, he listens as Noah continues, the boy speaking in an exaggerated whisper now as he attempts to heed his mother's gentle warning.

He rolls over and stares at the ceiling, letting his eyes pore over the intricacies of the details carved into their elaborate four-poster bed before slowly rolling himself to the edge and sitting up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Standing, he winces at the residual soreness in his feet as he grabs his t-shirt from the end of the bed, carelessly discarded early on in the amorous activities he and Olivia had partaken in after Noah went to sleep.

Following the sound of their hushed voices, Ed makes his way toward the opened French doors, finding Olivia sitting on a cushioned chaise on the balcony, wrapped in a plush cotton robe, absently stroking Noah's hair as he watches cartoons on their iPad in her lap. Her gaze is content, contemplative, as it floats between her son and people watching through the wrought-iron railing as Paris slowly starts to come alive on the streets below.

Silently, Ed hovers in the threshold. He watches her, his shoulder pressed into the doorframe, until Olivia senses his presence and turns toward him, a slow smile stretching across her lips.

"G'morning," Ed rasps.

Noah looks up, surprised at the sudden presence, before muttering a distracted _Hi, Ed_ and returning his attention to the iPad screen.

"Hi," Olivia echoes. Ed loves the just-woke-up crackle in her voice, evident even with one simple syllable. "Sleep good?"

Over the past months, he's found it's almost impossible _not_ to sleep good when her warm body is curled into his—so much so, his bed has taken to feeling empty when he's in it alone instead of nestled into hers a few blocks uptown. But he doesn't tell her that; merely nods as he pulls a chair over to them and sits down, propping his feet up beside hers on the lounger. "Been up long?"

Olivia smiles when Ed pulls her legs into his lap, his hands gently massaging the soles of her feet, knowing they're sore from all the walking they did the day before.

"Just a little while," she answers his question after a pause, her head lazily dropping back against the headrest as she releases a sigh. "That feels good, Ed," she half-moans, eyes twinkling as she eyes him over Noah's head.

They sit quietly for a while, giggling with Noah as he watches cartoons, speaking softly as they talk about everything they've seen thus far, the things they want to accomplish today.

As he rubs the soles of her tired feet, every now and then, he surprises her with a light tickle, his grip tightening when she tries to pull her foot away and out of his grasp. When Noah gets jostled in one of her attempts to wrench away, the young boy lowers the iPad, cocking his head and grinning at the older man. "What you doin', Ed?"

Olivia cuts in before Ed has a chance to answer. "Ed is being _very_ silly," she says, and Ed can hear the playful warning in her voice as well as see it in the warm brown of her eyes.

Ed relents and goes back to innocently rubbing her feet, smirking when her leg tenses in his lap. Olivia eyes him skeptically as he continues, as if she's unsure if she should trust him not to tickle her again. He winks at her, a silent truce, and he watches as she relaxes back into the chaise. She blinks lazily; eyes flitting from Noah, to Ed, to the street below them and then back again.

Her face is completely devoid of makeup, adorable freckles standing out against her smooth, olive skin, and her hair secured messily on the top of her head with a butterfly clip. His lip twitches in a half-smile as she flicks a stubborn strand of hair out of her face and he lets his eyes travel south, where a peek of her upper chest in the open V of her robe suggests that underneath it, she's wearing little more than the nothing she fell asleep in the night before.

Her face softens as her eyes land on a young family coming out of a bakery across the street: a boy not much older than Noah perched on his father's shoulders; the tall man laughing, kneeling so the mother can reach to wipe her son's face. As they disappear out of view, Ed's eyes are glued to Olivia as she squeezes Noah a little tighter against her; the movement so automatic and so subtle that he wonders if it's unconscious, if she's even aware that she's doing it. But then her eyes find his, still gazing rapturously at her, and she smiles at him. _That_ smile. It's innocent but it's also suggestive and, he'll be damned, it gets him every time.

A thought crosses his mind, then. That in all the ways he's seen her: dressed up or down or not at all, she has never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment. Carefree and relaxed; the weight of the world is noticeably off her shoulders, even if it's only a temporary reprieve.

It's like waking up with both he and Noah here like this is an everyday thing, and Ed smiles as realization settles over him.

He wants it to be.

##


	8. Fight

**Soooo…. Someone asked for a big fight + [temporary] break up. I've been wracking my brain, trying to imagine them fighting at all, much less… bigly, and what it would be about. Stay tuned while I try to work that one out.**

 **In the meantime, here's a spat that** _ **doesn't**_ **end in heartbreak.**

 **8.**

 _ **Fight**_

 **Timeline: doesn't matter; whenever, as long as Tuckson's a thing.**

 **WC: ~650**

 **Rating: T**

 **##**

Olivia ran a hand roughly through her tousled hair, perching her glasses haphazardly atop her head. She sighed heavily, rearranging the items on her countertop just to have something to do with her hands. "That's not the point, Ed," she ground out, careful of her volume so she didn't wake Noah.

He had the wherewithal to look chastised as he sat on a stool opposite her. "I know that," he returned evenly. He paused as she shook her head and continued ranting, spacing out as he took in her frazzled and frustrated appearance.

One of his favorite traits of hers was her passion. He loved her fire; loved the intensity that radiated off of her when she was riled like this. It made her even more irresistible to him. But, he had to concede that sometimes it showed up in circumstances that were less than desirable. Like now for example. When she was mad. At him.

"Are you _smiling_? _"_ she asked incredulously, letting her hands rest on her hips, her gaze hard as she looked at him.

"No," he said reflexively, changing course immediately when he registered the sour look on her face. "Okay, maybe just…a little," he conceded.

"I'm trying to be serious here, Ed," she complained exasperatedly. "Look, if—"

"I know, I'm sorry," he said genuinely. He stood from the stool slowly, rounding the island and walking toward her, conscious of the wary and impatient look on her face. "You're just so damn cute when you're angry." He gave her an impish grin, resting his hands lightly on her hips as he stepped closer to her.

Olivia tensed her jaw, determined to keep her expression steely, but he looked at her so earnestly, so sincerely, that despite how much she wanted to keep yelling at him, she was fighting hard to keep her lips from twitching into a smile. He could see her concession in her eyes, though, even before it materialized on her face.

Slowly, and with some reluctance, she wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him through her eyelashes, not exactly happy about the battle lost but giving in anyway.

"One of these times I'll stay mad at you," she grumbled, pressing her forehead into his shoulder.

"Hmm," he teased, disbelieving. "We'll see." She breathed out a soft chuckle, leaning back to look at him when she felt his fingers run through tangled strands of her hair, ultimately cupping the back of her head.

Big brown eyes softened at the look in his, and she sighed in defeat as he leaned in, capturing her bottom lip between his. He tugged lightly before covering her mouth with his, swallowing the small moan she expelled as his tongue breached her lips, gently exploring the warmth of her.

She broke the kiss, reaching up and wiping away residual saliva from the corner of his mouth. He held her face just under her jaw, pressing quick kisses on her chin and cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her waist, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck and breathing her in. "I love you," he murmured against her ear.

"I love you, too," she admitted softly. She kissed his shoulder, hands rubbing circles along the contoured muscles of his back. "No matter how crazy you make me sometimes," she added, biting her lip to hide a grin.

Ed chuckled and rearranged them until he was behind her, her back pressed snug against to his front. He clasped his hands together on her stomach, planted kisses along her neck and clumsily steered her out of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathily, arching her head back into his shoulder to give him more room to work on her neck.

"My turn to show you how crazy _you_ make _me_ , all the time _…_."

##

 **I think you guys will like number 9.**

 **Reviews are love.**

 **Tuckson forever.**

 **All that crap…**


	9. Love in a Bar

**Oh, hey.**

"The words came out and the truth can't lie, and we've been saying it with our eyes the whole time, that you have my whole heart…Yeah, we found love in a bar." – _Ryan Hurd, Love in a Bar_

 **##**

 **9.**

 _ **Love in a Bar**_

 **Timeline: PADREEEEEE**

 **WC: ~**

 **Rating: K. (I've been writing a lot of these lately…perhaps I need to smut it up a bit soon, yeah?)**

 _So, are you gonna just stand there talkin' about Amaro, or can I buy you a drink?_

He hadn't expected her to say yes. But the next thing he knew, he was leaned over the bar, asking her over his shoulder whether she preferred on the rocks or neat.

She tucked herself into the small space beside him at the bar, leaning her left side on the worn wood to face him. When the bartender put two glasses in front of them, Ed immediately passed her one and raised his in a silent toast. He watched her take a sip; smirking at the wince she tried so hard to hide as the drink blazed a trail of liquid fire down her throat.

"Yeah?" He asked her, gauging her reaction.

"I think… I still prefer wine," she said coyly after another sip. "But it's good."

He rested both elbows on the bar, turning his head to look at her with a sparkle in his eyes. Her glass was already half-empty, and there was a pink flush in her cheeks that he couldn't tell whether the bourbon had put there, or if it was something else.

"Oh, I'll convert ya," he said confidently. "Bourbon is like…" he looked up, searching his mind for the right comparison. "It's like… _ice cream_."

She let out a loud burst of laughter, leveling him with a disbelieving look. "Ice cream?"

"It is," he said defensively. "Any liquor is, if ya think about it," the idea gaining steam in his head. He stood up straight. "Look at that shelf," he pointed to a shelf over her left shoulder that was full of bottles of bourbon, all different brands and shapes and sizes. "All bourbon; they all get made more or less the same way, but every one of 'em is gonna taste different. Even if it's just a little bit."

She was silent for a moment before she cocked her head. "Either I've already had too much, or that actually makes sense," she chuckled.

He lifted his glass. "This is the good stuff; and my favorite," he added with a wink. "But maybe it's not your flavor," he shrugged, nudging his shoulder against hers in the process. "Don't worry, we'll find it."

She arched an inquisitive eyebrow. _We will?_

…

"How's it possible you live in New York and _don't_ love baseball?" he asked incredulously almost an hour later. "At this point I'd even settle for you bein' a Mets fan, but to not like baseball _at all?_ That's just… un-American…"

One drink had become two and they remained huddled at the bar, pushed closer together by a boisterous group that had taken over the space behind Olivia.

"It's just so… _boring_. And God forbid a game go into extra innings…" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Free baseball!" he cried.

"Besides," she continued, ignoring his outburst, "not _everyone_ in New York loves baseball," she refuted, pointing a finger at him with the hand wrapped around her glass as she took another sip.

"It's the greatest game ever played," he argued playfully, waving her off.

"Maybe back when they came up with that phrase," she laughed, ribbing him. "But options were limited back then, no?" She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows as she awaited his response, thinking she'd finally one-upped his argument.

He looked at her intensely out of the corner of his eye before shaking his head, "You're breakin' my heart, Benson," he groused.

She was about to retort when someone pushed into her from behind, knocking her off-balance. Her hand reflexively landed on his upper arm, squeezing the hard muscle as she steadied herself.

"Whoa," he said softly, quickly grabbing her waist as she crashed into him. "You okay?"

"Fine," she nodded, taking a step back and putting a bit of space between them.

A woman, probably in her mid-30s, stepped up from behind her. "I am _so_ sorry," she yelled over the din, projecting her voice a little too much given her proximity to the pair. "I didn't make you spill, did I?"

"No, you're okay," Olivia assured her, rolling her eyes at Ed once the woman rejoined her group.

He drained the last of his second drink, noticing she was down to maybe one or two sips left of hers, and he raised his eyebrows. "One more?"

"You trying to get me drunk, Tucker?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes, flicking a strand of hair out of her face and smiled at him in that way that made him forget himself for a second.

"Nah," he recovered, turning his eyes to the empty tumbler he was spinning on the bar-top. "Just enjoyin' the company…"

She waited until he looked her way again, blue eyes roving curiously over her face as her smile grew. The dim light in the bar lent another layer of mystery to her dark eyes, and he found himself hoping like hell that she'd stay, wanting to unravel it. Something in her gaze pulled him in, and he wondered how many miracles the universe could have in store for him in one night.

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. "One more."

##

"Which way ya headed?" he asked her, pointing his thumbs in either direction on the street as they stepped out of the bar an hour later. He hadn't asked her to stay for a fourth, knowing she had a little boy to get home to. When his fumbling hands nearly spun his empty glass careening off the table of the booth they'd moved to, he suggested they call it a night.

"I'm _that_ way," she said, cocking her head uptown. She smiled at him, likely prepared to say goodnight before he headed off in another direction. Had she been anyone else, and this been any other night, that may have been the case.

But, he wasn't eager for the night to end. So despite the fact that his building was five blocks the opposite way, he positioned himself between her and the street and gestured at her to lead the way. He matched her pace, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat as they walked side-by-side down the sidewalk.

At the first couple of intersections they crossed together, she glanced at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to announce that they'd arrived at his turn and he'd see her around. But, every time, he jerked his head forward, continuing their conversation seamlessly, slowing his pace to allow her to fall into step with him again. Every once in a while, they got caught in a biting crosswind, ducking their heads down against the cold and laughing as they huddled closer together to harness each other's warmth.

"Where are you?" she finally asked once they'd been walking for a few minutes, whipping her hair out of her face.

He answered her vaguely. "Not far." She smiled and rolled her eyes, the latter he markedly avoided. As they approached a Don't Walk signal, he held her arm, keeping her on the sidewalk as he leaned around a line of parked cars to check for oncoming traffic. Seeing none, he pulled her across the street with a gentle hand beneath her elbow. "C'mon…"

"I could arrest you for that you know," she teased, still loose from the buzz she'd gotten from the bourbon.

Ed chuckled, thankful the darkness of the night hid the heat he felt rise in his cheeks. He bit back the suggestive comment he _wanted_ to make and settled for a tame retort instead. "Me and every other person in this city…" He nudged her purposefully and she eyed him with a playful smile.

In what seemed like no time at all, she slowed to a stop in front of a nondescript building, nodding toward the door. "So, this is me," she said awkwardly, fishing her keys out of her purse and trudging up the steps.

"Oh. Alright," he said, hoping he'd kept the disappointment out of his voice. He stayed on the sidewalk and leaned against the railing as she made her way to the door. "Nice place."

In another world, he'd have walked her up to her door. Maybe even kissed her goodnight. As it was, all night he'd had to actively stop himself from wondering what the bourbon would taste like on her.

"How far do you have to go from here?" she inquired, bringing him back to the present.

"Just a few blocks." Technically not a lie, he reasoned, or at least, not a big one.

"Well, be safe," she told him. "Watch for cars," she added with a wink. She slid the key in the lock and opened the door, leaning against it. "And thanks for the drinks."

"Anytime, Sergeant."

"Goodnight..." She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ed stood on the sidewalk for a moment after she disappeared from view, having a hard time convincing himself that any part of the last couple of hours had actually happened, or that he'd managed to escape an evening with her without behaving like a complete ass.

Hell, he'd even made her laugh a few times.

He took a deep breath, zipped his coat up to the neck to ward off the cold and retraced their steps; past the bar they'd just left, heading toward home.

The walk felt like it took hardly any time at all and he almost walked by his own apartment, his mind so firmly planted in reliving memories of the evening. The way the neon lights of the bar bounced off her skin; the cadence of her laughter; how easy it was to just be around her…

He wondered what tomorrow would bring, if the night could mark a shift for them, if maybe it was possible that someday she could look at him and just see a man, rather than IAB.

He wondered…

##

 **Sorry for the delay in posting this one. Totally forgot I had it ready, to be honest…**


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